


milk and cookies.

by cl3rks



Series: home. [1]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Home, Milk And Cookies, Ricky - Freeform, Sexual References, Welcome Home, ive seen his name spelled two different ways so, mild swearing, oh what a sweetie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You like to bake cookies to welcome him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	milk and cookies.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing for this shithead before the movie even comes out. Joel Kinnaman is just ? ? ?MM mM MM mM ? ? ? 
> 
> If you find typos, let me know. I wrote this at 2 AM about a month ago and never got around to editing it because I've been busy, and I'm on AO3 anyway so ??? Just... if there are any, I'll probably find them.
> 
> [This is the first instalment of this series, FYI. The others will likely follow this, like a bath or sex or whatever, stupid dates and dorky love notes.]

You were always home to him. Ever since you first met in your early twenties, just having turned twenty yourself, he knew someday you'd be his absolute world. 

He was right.

He'd go away on missions and tours for his military occupation – ones you couldn't know anything about. You trusted him, knowing he could keep himself safe. You just didn't know if his buddies could do the same.

You'd kiss his jaw and smile and hug him tightly, saying you'd be alright without him there. He knew you'd be better off when he returned. Often, as it happened, when he did return, you were always either in one of his shirts and a pair of boy shorts or a tank top, a hoodie and some tight pair of underwear.

He liked it that way.

That meant you were cozy and comfortable in your shared apartment, that meant you were at home – which is why he felt so capable of slipping into old routines. 

When he got back, he was always different; "War changes people." You had heard other people say about their military loves, whether they be family or friends. This was true, _especially_ when some of the war he was fighting was on domestic soil.

"You're back!" You'd giggled excitedly, racing to him as he dropped his duffel bag and held you tight, his uniform chaffing and roughly rubbing against your soft skin. "Oooh, I had a feeling!"

"You always do." Rick laughed shortly, holding you tightly against him as you wrapped your arms around him and bounced slightly. "Mm, do I smell cookies?"

"Wanted them fresh, just for you!"

Rick smiled wide, his tired eyes gazing at the fresh chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen counter. He was beyond tired, but he picked you up nonetheless and carted you over to the counter. He sat you down on it and went and got the milk, getting two glasses before pouring each of you some milk.

He left out the carton, no doubt because you'd both guzzle it.

He flopped on the ground, right in front of the dishwasher so your legs could dangle beside his body as he blindly reached for a cookie. It was about ten minutes before you spoke.

"You've had half the plate and three glasses of milk," You paused, bending down slightly, careful not to fall off, so you could gently run your fingers through his hair. You slipped off the counter and sat beside him, pulling him halfway onto your lap. "You alright?"

"Tired." Rick replied slowly, his jaw hurting from chewing cookies. "Really tired."

"Then we can go upstairs and you can get some sleep, take a nap – I can run you a nice bath when you wake up..."

"Will you hop in with me?" He questioned, his mind wandering. You chuckled softly, nodding as he looked up at you from his half-lean position on you. 

"Of course."

"Mm, good." Rick commented, finishing his milk. "I love these cookies."

You snorted your obnoxiously loud laugh. "I can tell." You said this, just before pressing your lips to his. His mustache and beard tickled your face, causing you to giggle against his lips. 

"Love you." He said, his body sluggish as he struggled to get up. "Oh, shit. I shouldn't have sat down."

"C'mon, Ricky, Mr. Tired Military Man, let's go." You urged him, standing up and attempting to pull him up with you. He groaned from his place on the floor and stood, nearly falling over as you helped walk him up the stairs, his body heavy as sleep ghosted over his form. "Gotta get you to bed."

"Then we can have sex." Rick mumbled as you eventually got him up the stairs and into your room, allowing him to collapse onto your shared bed. "All the sex."

"Sometimes I think you go off and fight just so you can come home and enjoy welcome back sex." You commented, yanking his boots off as he began to drift off.

"Yeah, nothin' like fuckin' your girl's brains out while she's shakin' beneath you." Rick's voice was quiet now, obviously going into dreamland.

"Yeah, yeah." You smiled, shaking your head as you settled beside him.

He spoke jokingly next, his face pressed to his pillow. "You give me less credit than you should."

"And you give yourself more credit than you deserve."


End file.
